There was no settlement between us and the Detroit River, a distance of
six miles. We looked along the Reed creek to see if any cattle had
crossed it.

While we were looking there we heard the report of a rifle close by us
and hurried up. It was an Indian who had just shot a duck in the head.
When we came to him father told him it was a lucky shot, a good shot to
shoot it in the head. He said, "Me allers shoot head not hurt body." He
took us to his wigwam, which was close by, showed us another duck with
the neck nearly shot off. Whether he told the truth, or whether these two
were lucky shots, I cannot tell, but one thing I do know, in regard to
him, if he told us the truth he was an extraordinary man and marksman.

Around his wigwam hung from half a dozen to a dozen deer skins; they hung
on poles. His family seemed to consist of his squaw and a young squaw
almost grown up. Father told him we had lost our cattle, oxen and cow,
and asked him if he had seen them. We had hard work to make him
understand what we meant. Father said--cow--bell--strap round neck--he
tried to show him, shook his hand as if jingling a bell. Then father
said, oxen--spotted--white--black; he put his hand on his side and said:
black--cow--bell--noise, and then said, as nearly as we could understand,
"Me see them day before yesterday," and he pointed in the woods to tell
us which way. Father took a silver half-dollar out of his pocket, showed
it to the Indian, and told him he should have it if he would show us the
cattle. He wiped out his rifle, loaded it and said, "Me show." He took
his rifle and wiper and started with us; we went about half a mile and he
showed us where he had seen them. We looked and found large ox's tracks
and cow's tracks. I thought, from the size and shape of them, they were
our cattle's tracks. The Indian started upon the tracks, father followed